Eleventh Birthday
by lotttieifif
Summary: Not every kid's eleventh birthday is the best. They can have some pretty big downs when you have mean children to deal with but for one lucky little girl there was a good side to an eleventh birthday. Oneshot.


**Ok, this is my first ever fanfic so please be gentle. This is only a little oneshot I'd been dabbling with in my mind and decided to write down.**

 **Only warning is that is includes brief mocking and bullying which I in no way, shape or form condone or support but for the sake of the character's story fits in for necessity. If this bothers you please click off 3**

 **Please review! I'd love to get your feedback for future fanfics, long and short hopefully. If any grammar is wrong message me and I'll fix it xxx**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter is completely J. 's 's. We owe her a lot. She's a queen. Peace out.**

 _Summary: Not every kid's eleventh birthday is the best. They can have some pretty big downs when you have mean children to deal with but for one lucky little girl there was a good side to an eleventh birthday._

 ** _Eleventh Birthday_**

 ** _Hermoine Granger_**

Every kid wakes up on their eleventh birthday thinking 'This is going to be the best day of my life.' Right?

Incorrect.

At least this wasn't the case for little Miss Hermione Jean Granger.

Hermione Granger grew up in the small, quaint town of Covenshire, one hour south of London. With the mere population of 2,749 habitants, it was a given that everyone knew everyone. They'd all been to the same playschool, gone to the same local medic center when sick, dined in Johnny's Subs when the occasion called for it and been blessed by the same old priest when they wanted to abide their guilt from their sins from time to time. Hermione could rattle off the names of everyone in her school. Alphabetically even, if asked. Similarly, enough, everyone knew who Hermione Granger was. But nobody knew who Hermione truly was. All they saw was a bony girl with buck teeth. The one who always had her nose stuck in a book and didn't seem to know how to use a hairbrush, if that out of control mane on top of her head was anything to go by. The too puny a girl who'd sometimes make strange things happen when the playground bullies would start picking on her. It'd become cold and the leaves would start to blow in their faces. Or that suddenly she'd climb a twenty-foot tree without coming out of it with even a simple graze on her knee. There were two types of kids in Covenshire.

The type that'd stay away from Hermione Granger.

Or the ones that'd come looking to push her around.

That had left said little girl, in a bit of a problem. Birthdays were no fun without friends. Regardless of the promised cupcake she'd have with her parents in the back office of _Golden Smiles_. Being odd was a bother in such a town where gossip flew like birds through the skies.

Her thick boots trudged through the early morning snow as she wearily made her way through the school yard. It lay in a slick layer, gathering up on her toes as she stepped through it, the cold bleeding through her shoes and wetting her mismatched socks. Hermione's thoughts wandered to her thick library book which was poking into her back through her school bag as she shook wet flakes off her new fluffy jacket. She had yet to start it and couldn't wait for a spare moment to dive into it. She'd spent the previous night trying to scrape out a tray of burnt macaroni and cheese. Her attempt to cook hadn't gone quite to plan but really when did it ever. Heidi, the housekeeper, had left early and she had been left to resort to the multiple cookery books stacked on the counter that her mother always claimed she'd tackle soon.

Needless to say, Hermione's talents didn't lie in the domain of cuisine.

Before she had even realised it, Hermione was shuffling into her cosy chair by the radiator in the right corner of Ms Casey's classroom. A resounding ding dong, called her attention to start of lessons. Ms Casey promptly bustled in leaving behind a track of grubby footprints for the janitor to later scrub.

"Good morning class! Open your math books on page ninety-six. We're revising division today."

With a practiced eye-roll at the simplicity, Hermione soon began scribbling through her sums.

'This is way too easy...'

Halfway through the hour, she looked around already finished. Nobody was finished yet. Not even Margot Clarke, the girl up at the front whose parents had hired her a tutor so she could supposedly reach her full potential. 'She was nice to me once. Likes books,' thought Hermione appreciatively. Catching the eye of Louise Hills, a curling sneer made Hermione shrink back, shooting her eyes down to her copy. Why ever Louise had planted a target on Hermione's back the first day of primary school was beyond her capability of understanding.

"Hermione?"

She looked up to see Ms Casey watching her with a pitiful glint her eye.

"Yes, miss?"

With a quick beckon, "Your copy, please."

Scrambling up to the front desk, she walked with her back caved, aware of the watchful eyes boring at her. Ms Casey's red biro spread messy ticks across her immaculate work. Hermione could feel her fists scrunching, trying to apparent nonchalant about the new mess on her perfect work. Seeing the mess caused her physical pain. With a quick sigh, Ms Casey handed back her copy to her, "Brilliant as always." This caused a shy smile to tug at the birthday girl's lips. She took it from her hand and turned to walk back to her seat after nodding her thanks.

"Oh and Hermione," she turned around at the call of her name, " have a lovely birthday."

The sweetly intended gesture caused a pang in her heart as she realised that her life was so pathetic that the only person who'd bothered to wish her a happy birthday was an overpaid primary school teacher with little attachment to her students. Her cheeks burned red with embarrassment.

"Thank you, Miss…." she murmured through the giggles of her immature classmates.

"Hey Granger!" the shout across the yard shocked her in her tracks. It was just gone two o'clock or otherwise referred to as that time of day children escape that building which is affectionately known as prison. Hermione had been hoping to get home without any complications. All she wanted was to cuddle up by the fire, reading her book until her parents came home and they could have a nice, placid dinner. She'd had a surprisingly peaceful day so far. Nobody had thrown a football at her head during breaktime nor had they cornered her by the bins.

She should have known it was too good to be true.

She threw a worrisome glance over her shoulders, only to see Louise and the rest of her posse of bratty children running over her way. Hermione's eyes grew wide as she tried to turn and make a run for it, but it was too late. A crowd had already formed blocking the gates. She attempted to push through it but it was a futile effort as she was roughly shoved onto the damp ground resulting in a chorus of raucous laughs. Desperately, her head swivelled twice, looking for an escape exit. A full circle had already swarmed her. As good as Hermione was at wondrously eluding her bullies or creating a distraction out of nothing, she knew there was no way out of this one.

'This can't be happening. Not today.' Her frantic thoughts jumbled together. She could already feel the beginnings of a well accustomed migraine starting.

Valiantly, Hermione faced her tormentor with a fierce glare, "I'm not in the mood for trouble so tell these people to move out of my way, please." She gritted through her teeth bitterly. The show of weakness took a toll on her. It always did.

Louise cackled mercilessly, her springy frame towering over her menacingly. Their peers joined in with her.

"Now why on earth would I do that for you. I'm not looking for trouble either," a harsh push to her contradicted that, "but then my eyes just happened to cross upon you and guess what I saw."

She smirked cruelly.

"Trouble. Cause that's all you are, aren't you Buck Teeth. Trouble. A waste of space. I once heard my Aunt Trudy bring told by the neighbours that your parents ask themselves why they kept you. Is that true?"

A hush of whispers broke across the crowd making Hermione's hairs stand up on her neck. The insults were common and typical but nevertheless hurtful.

A burst of something unknown allowed her to push through the mass of children and sprint down the lane before anyone saw the welling tears.

A flurry of thoughts swirled through her mind as she raced through the streets of her neighbourhood. She passed house upon house until she reached the final corner by her house.

She was forced to stop, panting exhaustively as she lowered herself onto the bench. Her deep hatred of anything to do with sport caused her to have a rather shabby fitness level but she'd take that over kicking a ball on a field any day.

Breathing deeply, she raised her eyes up to her house, brushing away the residual tears. However, something caught her attention and made her pause. A woman oddly dressed in long, velvet robes sat perched on her porch swing cool as a cucumber with an owl on her shoulder. Rubbing her eyes and scrunching her nose she checked again to see whether her mind was playing tricks on her. The spectacled lady and tawny owl hadn't moved an inch, ridding the idea of them just being a figment of her imagination at the end of a long day.

Slowly Hermione looked around but nothing else seemed out of place. Shrugging her shoulders and straightening her back she set towards her modest home. Her day couldn't get any worse.

What else could happen?

It was her eleventh birthday. Surely a girl can have a bit of luck.


End file.
